


The Adjutant's Address

by KanuKoris



Series: The Bishop DeSoto, Long May He Reign [2]
Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: Bishop Max, Board Ending, Bureaucracy is a Kafka-ian nightmare, Darkest Timeline, F/M, Gen, Performance Review from hell, Political Intrigue, Power Dynamics, The Adjutant, The Captain (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:08:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21808678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KanuKoris/pseuds/KanuKoris
Summary: “The perils of middle management. Now, I’ll be brief. Are you fucking Captain Hawthorne?”Adjutant Akande suspects the Bishop's loyalties may be wavering, and she does not like uncertainty within her ranks.
Series: The Bishop DeSoto, Long May He Reign [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1567744
Comments: 10
Kudos: 45





	The Adjutant's Address

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct continuation from the previous work in the series (just in case you are lost)

“Sit. I don’t have vodka today, my assistant neglected to keep a better tally of my cabinet. Wine?”

Sophia Akande was already taking two glasses from the liquor hutch in her office and placing them on her desk. She was a woman who didn’t like to waste anything – not her time, movements or breath. Thankfully, the Bishop appreciated that quality and their meetings tended to be productive. He had already seated himself and nodded to affirm her suggestion.

Chairman Rockwell, in stark contrast, liked the sound of his own voice and would have spent at least fifteen minutes regaling her with some story he found interesting, and complaining that she was boring whenever she tried to get him back on task.

She poured them both a glass of wine and thanked the Law she didn’t have a meeting scheduled with Rockwell until 2100 hours that evening.

“Wine before your evening meal? Something must be vexing you, Adjutant.” The Bishop’s drawling tone was amused, as he leaned back into his chair, cradling his glass in a cupped hand.

Sophia waved a hand towards her terminal and the stack of reports on her desk in response. “The perils of middle management. Now, I’ll be brief. Are you fucking Captain Hawthorne?”

The Bishop’s eyebrows rose almost to meet his impeccable hairline. His mouth fell open and he looked torn between laughing or protesting in outrage. He saw that she was still patiently waiting for a response and spluttered, “Of course not! Where in Law’s name did you get such a ridiculous notion?”

Sophia had heard men and women hotly defend themselves before, rail at her for ‘outrageous accusations’, but what they failed to remember about her was that she always had proof. With a manicured finger she tapped a command into her terminal and brought up an archive of surveillance streams.

The Bishop’s face darkened when he recognized his own balcony in the frame. Wordlessly, she hit ‘play’ and the footage shuddered into motion.

The Bishop. The Captain. Drinking wine on his balcony. Tension in the shoulders. An aggressive negotiation of space. Heated words – the lip-reading A.I. had already finished its analysis of the exchange.

A kiss. A whispered sentence into the Bishop’s ear. Hawthorne’s hair obscured her face – the A.I. couldn’t get a clean match. Words that remained private between the two.

The footage looped. The Bishop was tense, as if a wire running through the entire length of his body had been pulled taut. “It’s not—“

“—what it looks like?” She finished for him, a frown on her face. “I think you’ve known me for long enough, DeSoto, to know that I don’t care to be idly fucked with.”

“You have surveillance in my apartment?”

She didn’t blink, easily brushing aside his outrage. “Of course I do. All over the premises. Twenty-four-seven. You, the Chairman, every member of the Board, and every Byzantium resident within a certain income bracket. Did you expect any less from me?”

His face shuttered, his mouth drawing into a tense line. He looked a little flushed, as if he were recalling every embarrassing or private moment he now knew had borne a witness. She didn’t care, what most people felt were the scandalous parts of their lives, were completely inconsequential to her. She didn’t care about their foibles, their vices, their indiscretions – she only cared about what could make them a liability or an asset.

And while the Bishop had proven himself to be an asset thus far, this new development was causing her to reevaluate.

“DeSoto. Explain.”

Through grit teeth he ground out, “It’s nothing. I think from your footage you can see it wasn’t reciprocated. Hawthorne is… a law unto herself.”

“That’s precisely the problem, isn’t it.” Sophia’s eyes flickered over to her terminal screen as she navigated through a different database, skimming rapidly through her network of intelligence that, to an outsider, would have seemed frighteningly extensive.

She personally thought it was practical.

“Your history with Hawthorne was a point of contention when we decided to award you this office. Over the years you haven’t given me a cause to worry. Your anger management, ambition, and potential for heresy have all fallen within acceptable margins. So far your few affairs have been discreet and haven’t interfered with your duties.”

His face grew even more rigid at the mention of his romantic history, though ‘romantic’ was the last descriptor Sophia would have used for his sparing dalliances, which was precisely why she had overlooked them all. She understood that it was impossible, and therefore a waste of time, to try and hold figures of authority to higher standards. People were people. They fucked and they fucked up. She focused instead on making sure that none of the Board leadership got entangled into relationships that could compromise their positions.

Law only knew Rockwell was too thickheaded to know when some Byzantium socialite thought screwing the Chairman would give them preferred treatment. Or worse – political leverage.

Bishop DeSoto was too ambitious to fall prey to that. He loved power more than any friendship, though he tried to procure an image that contradicted that. Yet, Sophia had wondered about the time he had spent in Edgewater, and then on the Unreliable’s crew. Hawthorne tended to collect misfits and the occasional revolutionary to her side. And DeSoto had been obsessed with a heretical text, the reviews from his superiors and his assignment to Tartarus had painted a distinct portrait of a troubled man.

However, after being stationed in Byzantium he had made every appearance to leave the adventuring life behind. In the several years he had been serving at the Headquarters of the OSI he never once bothered to contact his old crewmates. Sophia put a pin in the issue, content to view it as a blip. The misguided meanderings of a younger man.

But the Bishop now was shifting uneasily in his chair, glancing nervously from her to whatever she was reading on her screen, probably guessing correctly that it was an encyclopedic collection of all information gathered on him. The way he was acting made Sophia think that his reunion with Hawthorne was no blip.

He had never allowed any of his previous lovers to kiss him in that manner.

“Remember, Bishop… that you lead the OSI at my pleasure. You are meant to lead the religious arm of Halcyon in perfect alignment with the corporate arm. If that relationship becomes disharmonious…” She did not need to resort to dramatic threats, the danger in her voice was clear. “…the Board will seek your termination.”

He looked at her through narrowed eyes, his temper simmering. He was more intelligent than the previous candidates for Bishop, but even the brightest minds in Halcyon needed the occasional reminder that they were expendable.

“I haven’t forgotten my responsibilities, Adjutant,” he said in a sibilant hiss, clenching and unclenching the fingers of his right hand. “My priorities have always been to preserve and uphold the Scientific Order. An old acquaintance hardly changes that.”

Sophia let out a noise of dry disbelief. Most found the Bishop’s commanding presence to be intimidating. But with all of his pressure points and dirty laundry typed up for her into an indexed report, Sophia saw a clear map of his insecurities and the carefully constructed lies he told himself and others. An arrogant man did not frighten her, not when they all fell so neatly into a quantifiable category.

Captain Alex Hawthorne, on the other hand, _did_ worry her.

“Hawthorne’s more than just an old acquaintance of yours. Don’t insult her or make the mistake of underestimating her. She has an upsetting amount of potential to be a threat.”

“The Captain is just one person—“

“She’s a symbol. A bonafide hero.” Sophia grimaced, her impassive mask slipping a millimeter. “They’ve made aetherwave serials of her. Law, she’s literally starred in a few. Whether you believe a word that comes out of her mouth is inconsequential. The Halcyon Holdings Corporation knows the power of a beloved mascot. You could slap Hawthorne’s face on anything and sell it to the masses: a new caffeine drink, a meal supplement, a _revolution_ …”

The Bishop had a closed, but vaguely menacing look on his face. “‘Hero’ is a dangerous occupation. And it isn’t as if the Board has never… retired a mascot before.”

The Adjutant blinked. She didn’t make a habit out of feeling surprised, and while she wasn’t in shock, she felt a misstep at how much she had measured the Bishop’s ambition. Or was it ambition speaking?

“One day you’re kissing the Captain, the next you’re suggesting we terminate her?”

“ _She_ kissed _me_ ,” he snarled, his jaw working as he desperately tried to keep his anger in check. “You’ve dealt with Hawthorne before. Surely you must realize she did that precisely to have you doubt me and interrogate me like you are now.”

There was color flushing along his neck, peeking just above the edge of his high collar. This _bothered_ him. Sophia steepled her fingers together, resting a shrewd eye on him.

“Hawthorne’s motives being Machiavellian doesn’t change the fact that she was successful. I _do_ have my doubts of you. You _will_ be scrutinized more carefully from here on out. Consider your performance ‘under review’.”

The Bishop looked devastated for a split second before he remembered himself and brought his poise back under control. Sophia made a positive mental ‘tick’ when she saw his slip. It made her life a lot easier if Bishop DeSoto cared more about his position than whatever complicated feelings he had about a popular mercenary.

“Hawthorne’s name has always been listed under your areas of potential risk. Distance has mitigated that up until now. If you don’t watch yourself, DeSoto, she’ll become a liability.”

“A liability you’re content to do nothing about?” Though he kept it off his face, he couldn’t fully prevent the venom dripping from his voice. “Or do you just want to see if I’ll sink or swim?”

She smirked, finding his prickly disposition amusing. “The strong survive, isn’t that right, Bishop? Regardless, there’s no need to flatter yourself. I don’t spend my days devising personal trials for you. I have more important things to do.” He had the gall to look mildly offended at that. She fought not to roll her eyes.

“If Hawthorne were ever to be convinced to publicly endorse the Board, her contributions would outstrip any difficulties she’s caused up until now. So, while there is still a chance of that happening, she’s too valuable an asset to burn.”

Akande drummed her fingers once along her desk, like an accent to her point. “There is an untold amount we could accomplish if Hawthorne were _our_ hero.”

“I see.”

“You completed the soft skills course on turning a compromised situation to your advantage. It was part of your succession training.” Her eyes flicked to the pertinent part of his file, the high scores he had obtained, and then back to him. He looked thoughtful, catching on quickly to her point. “Would I be correct in assuming that _you_ are a pressure point of Hawthorne’s?”

There was a darkly intrigued look on his face. “That’s for her to say.”

“No, DeSoto, that’s for you to carry out. Either you allow your connection with Hawthorne to jeopardize our operations, or you leverage it to secure her allegiance.”

He blinked. His face was inscrutable.

Sophia pressed on. “Befriend her, bribe her, fuck her or blackmail her. I don’t care what you do so long as you _bring her to heel_.”

Those words fell between them like the blows of a pulse hammer. The Bishop was frozen, until he tilted his head slightly in a nod to say – yes, he understood. Good. Sophia liked it when she didn’t need to mince words.

He began to rise from his chair, when she said, “You haven’t finished your wine.”

He hovered. “I’m afraid my appetite for it has slipped away.”

But to his surprise, she insisted. “It was expensive, and it was allocated to you. You would be surprised at the amount of resources that get diverted to offer you an indulgence. And I will not like it if my time and effort have gone… unappreciated.”

He was smart enough to know she wasn’t talking about a fucking glass of wine. He was torn, his body turned toward the doors he desperately wanted to exit out of, and one hand still curled around the glass he had tried to leave on her desk. Sophia waited patiently. She didn’t care if he struggled, so long as he swallowed his pride the right way.

Finally, he picked up the glass and drained its contents in a few labored swallows, grimacing as he did. Empty, he placed it back down on her desk a little more forcefully than necessary, and left her office in long strides, his cassock billowing behind him.

With a sure hand, Sophia caught the tilting glass before it unbalanced and rolled off her desk. She set it upright.

It did not matter if the Bishop was feeling resentful. Sophia did not care if she was cursed or praised. In the privacy of her now empty office, she lifted her own glass to her lips and took a lingering sip.

Loved. Hated. So long as it got the job done.

**Author's Note:**

> We all knew the real puppetmaster was the Adjutant, right? (I love Akande, I suspect she will continue to play a significant role in the background, just how she prefers it)
> 
> The next installment is in the works, and will be the Chairman's party. Hawthorne will raise some hell, she'll steal a dance or two, and maybe kick off a cold war. Who knows? Stay tuned.


End file.
